The Second Evil

  Chapter 17

  Fear

  After dinner the next night, Corky waited for Debra at Alma’s, the small coffee shop where she and Chip had talked to Sarah Beth Plummer. The restaurant was bustling now, the booths and long counter filled with college students, laughing and talking, their voices competing with the clatter of silverware and china and the saxophones of a salsa band pouring out from the jukebox.

  Debra came hurrying in, ten minutes late, her cheeks flushed from the cold. She was wearing several layers of sweaters over blue corduroys. Her eyes swept over the crowded restaurant until she located Corky in the next-to-last booth.

  After making her way past a white-uniformed waitress holding a tray of glasses over her head, Debra slid into the booth across from Corky and sighed. “Sorry I’m late.”

  “No problem,” Corky told her, her hands encircling a white mug of hot chocolate. “Where’s Kimmy?”

  “She’s sick,” Debra announced. “Her mom says she has a temperature and everything. That’s why she wasn’t in school today.”

  Corky’s mouth dropped open in surprise. “Sick? Will she be okay for the game tomorrow night?”

  Debra shrugged. “I hope so.”

  The waitress appeared, pad in hand, and stared down impatiently at Debra. “You need a menu?”

  Debra shook her head. “Just a Coke, please.”

  “Sarah Beth Plummer lives right across the street,” Corky said after the waitress left. “She pointed out the house to Chip and me that night—we sat over there.” She indicated the rear booth. “And she told us about Sarah Fear.”

  Debra glanced at the booth Corky had pointed to. It was now occupied by four girls having hamburgers and french fries. “You think this Sarah Beth will be helpful?”

  Corky sipped her hot chocolate. She made a face. It tasted powdery. It hadn’t been stirred enough. “I just had the feeling that night that Sarah Beth knew a lot more than she was telling us. There was something suspicious about her, you know. Something devious.”

  Debra’s Coke arrived. She picked up the straw and blew the paper covering at Corky. “This Sarah Beth Plummer. Is she old?”

  Corky shook her head. She brushed a strand of blond hair from her eyes. “No. She’s young—early twenties, I think.”

  “What makes you think she’ll talk to us?” Debra asked.

  “I don’t know,” Corky replied. “But I think we have to try to talk to her. I mean, I saw her dancing over Sarah Fear’s grave with Jon Daly. And now Jon has disappeared.”

  “Do you think Sarah Beth knows where the evil spirit is?” Debra asked, sipping the Coke.

  “I intend to ask her,” Corky replied and sighed. “This is a crazy conversation, isn’t it? If anyone overheard us, they’d think we were nuts.”

  “But we’re not nuts,” Debra said quickly, gesturing with both hands, accidentally bumping her glass and spilling a small puddle of Coke onto the tabletop. “The evil is real. We know that.”

  “I know,” Corky agreed quietly.

  “Let’s go see what Sarah Beth Plummer knows,” Debra said.

  Both girls slid out of the booth and, after paying, hurried out of the restaurant.

  There was no name over the doorbell, but Corky remembered the house. It was a narrow two-story semidetached redbrick structure, part of a row of small houses, most of them occupied by students from the nearby community college.

  The two girls hesitated on the small concrete front stoop, staring at the curtained window beside the door. Corky raised her finger to the doorbell, then lowered it.

  “What’s the matter?” Debra asked in a loud whisper.

  A car rolled by quickly, its headlights sending a wash of white light over them, fixing them in a bright spot.

  “I just keep picturing Sarah Beth dancing in the cemetery,” Corky replied. “With Jon leaning over Sarah Fear’s grave.” She gripped the sleeve of Debra’s sweater. “She could be dangerous, Debra. I mean—she could be possessed by the evil.” Corky shuddered. “We could be walking in to our death.”

  “We have to find out,” Debra said in a tense whisper. “We’ve got to know the truth.” Taking a deep breath, she reached forward and pressed the doorbell, leaving her finger on it for a long time.

  They could hear the buzzer inside the house. A light went on. They heard soft footsteps; then the door was pulled open.

  Sarah Beth Plummer poked her head out. She had a bath towel wrapped around her hair. She must have just washed it, Corky realized.

  Sarah Beth’s eyes fell on Debra first. Then she recognized Corky. “Oh, hi.” Her expression was a mixture of surprise and confusion.

  “Hi. Remember me?” Corky asked meekly.

  “Yes. You’re … Corky,” Sarah Beth said after some hesitation.

  “This is my friend, Debra Kern,” Corky said.

  “Come in, come in,” Sarah Beth said, shivering. “It’s freezing out, and I just shampooed my hair.”

  The two girls followed her into a small living room filled with antique furniture. Corky carefully closed the front door behind her. The room was hot and smelled of oranges. Two old oversize armchairs and a large plum-colored couch nearly filled the space. A low coffee table in front of the couch was stacked high with books, papers, and files. The walls were lined with crowded bookshelves that reached nearly to the ceiling.

  Sarah Beth rewrapped the towel on her head, staring at the two girls. She was wearing an oversize man’s white shirt over black leggings and woolly white tube socks.

  “Can we talk with you?” Corky asked awkwardly. “I mean, is this a bad time or anything?”

  “No. I guess not,” Sarah Beth replied, her expression still confused. “I was just making some coffee. Would you care for some?”

  “No, thanks,” Debra answered quickly.

  “Take off your coat,” Sarah Beth told Corky. “You can just toss it over there.” She pointed to one of the armchairs.

  “I thought … well … maybe you could tell us more about Sarah Fear,” Corky stammered, obediently tossing her coat onto the back of one of the big chairs.

  Sarah Beth’s mouth formed an O of surprise.

  “If it isn’t too much trouble,” Corky added.

  “Sarah Fear?” Sarah Beth said, eyeing both girls thoughtfully. “Well …”

  “It would really mean a lot to us,” Debra said. “Anything you know about her.”

  “Okay,” Sarah Beth reluctantly agreed. “I mean, I don’t know that much. But sit down.” She gestured to the couch. “I’ll just go turn off the stove. Then we can talk. I’ll tell you what little I know.”

  “Thanks a lot,” Corky replied gratefully. “I know we’re barging in—”

  “No problem,” Sarah Beth said, waving to them to sit. She hurried to the kitchen.

  “She has such an old lady’s voice,” Debra whispered.

  “Yeah. I know,” Corky whispered back. “She looked surprised to see us—but not that surprised,” she added, her eyes on the doorway to the kitchen.

  “She didn’t even ask us why we want to know about Sarah Fear,” Debra whispered.

  Debra edged past the armchairs and sat down on the edge of couch, sinking into the plush cushion.

  Corky tried to make her way to the other side of the couch. But she accidentally bumped the coffee table with her leg, sending a tall stack of files toppling to the carpet.

  “Nice move, ace,” Debra joked. She tried to get up to help Corky pick up the files, but the low, soft cushion made it difficult for her to stand.

  Corky dropped to her knees and began hurriedly to pile the manila files back on the table. A bunch of envelopes fell out of one of the folders.

  She scooped them up and started to replace them—and then stopped. Her eyes widened in surprise.

  “Debra, look!” she gasped.

  “What is it?” Debra asked.

  “These envelopes …” Corky said, her voice trembling. “They’re all addressed to Sarah Fear!”
r />   Chapter 18

  Sunk

  “Sarah Fear?” Debra grabbed an envelope from Corky’s hand and pulled it close to study it. “But this letter was postmarked only a few weeks ago!” she exclaimed.

  Corky glanced nervously to the doorway. “Do you think Sarah Beth Plummer is really Sarah Fear?” she whispered, frantically stuffing the envelopes back into the folder.

  “You mean—is she over a hundred?” Debra asked.

  “The furniture is all so old,” Corky remarked. “Sarah Fear would feel comfortable in this room.”

  “I’m back.” Sarah Beth reappeared, carrying a cup of steaming coffee. She stopped just past the doorway. “Corky, what are you doing down there?”

  “Uh … I accidentally knocked some stuff over,” Corky confessed, staring hard at Sarah Beth.

  “Oh, don’t worry about it,” Sarah Beth said, moving toward one of the armchairs. “This place is a mess. I’ll pick it all up later.”

  “Uh … Sarah Beth?” Corky started. She held up one of the envelopes. “I couldn’t help but see. These letters—they’re all addressed to Sarah Fear.”

  Sarah Beth’s eyes narrowed for a brief second, but she quickly resumed her friendly expression, “I know,” she told Corky.

  “But—”

  Sarah Beth lowered herself carefully into the big armchair, sinking deep into the cushion, resting the coffee cup on the padded arm. She sighed. “Well, I guess you know my secret. I’m a Fear.”

  Corky gasped.

  Sarah Beth laughed. “It isn’t that terrible! It doesn’t mean I’m some kind of demon, you know!” She seemed to find Corky’s reaction very amusing.

  Corky climbed to her feet and joined Debra on the couch. “So your real name is Sarah Fear?” she asked, staring into Sarah Beth’s eyes as if trying to read her mind.

  Sarah Beth nodded. “I don’t use it. Most of the time I use my mother’s maiden name—Plummer.” She took a sip of coffee. “The Fear name is such a curse.”

  “What do you mean?” Corky asked, clasping her hands tightly in her lap.

  “Your reaction said it best,” Sarah Beth replied, smiling. “When I said I was a Fear, you practically fainted on the floor!”

  All three of them laughed.

  “I was just … surprised,” Corky explained.

  “Surprised and horrified,” Sarah Beth added. “Everyone in Shadyside knows that the Fear family is filled with weirdos and monsters. The name is a curse.” All the amusement drained from her face. She took a long sip of coffee. “A curse.”

  “Are you related to the first Sarah Fear?” Debra asked. “Are you named after her?”

  “I’m related to her somehow,” Sarah Beth replied. “I don’t know if my parents named me after her or not—I don’t think so.” She reached up with her free hand and pulled the towel off her head. Her black hair, still wet, fell down around her face. She tossed the towel over the chair.

  “I’ve spent my whole life trying to get away from that dreadful name,” she said with emotion. “Fear.” She made a disgusted face. “But it’s funny—I find myself drawn to the story of the Fears. I’m fascinated by my ancestors, drawn to them, pulled to them as if by an invisible force.”

  “When we talked the last time,” Corky started, “across the street, at the restaurant—”

  “I didn’t tell you everything,” Sarah Beth interrupted. “I confess.” Her dark eyes burned into Gorky’s. “I didn’t reveal everything I know about Sarah Fear. I just didn’t want to.” She paused, and then her expression hardened and she added, “I really don’t want to now.”

  Corky recoiled at the young woman’s sudden coldness. She glanced at Debra, who was staring intently at Sarah Beth.

  “We really need your help,” Corky said, her voice cracking with emotion. “My sister and my friends—Bobbi and Chip and Jennifer—they’ve all lost their lives. And I don’t know. Maybe I’m next.”

  Surprise registered on Sarah Beth’s face. She set her cup down on the carpet at her feet.

  “Something evil killed Bobbi and Chip,” Corky continued. “Something evil from beyond this world. And we think it has something to do with Sarah Fear.”

  “That’s why we have to find out all we can about Sarah Fear,” Debra said, shifting her weight on the couch. “We need to know everything you know so that maybe we can stop this evil.”

  Sarah Beth stared at Debra as if seeing her for the first time. “I don’t understand,” she said finally. “I really don’t think my dredging up ancient history will do you any good.”

  “Please!” Corky cried, not intending to sound so shrill, so desperate. “Please, Sarah Beth, please help us. Please tell us what you know.”

  Sarah Beth raised both hands as if surrendering at gunpoint. “Okay. I’ll talk, I’ll talk!” she cried. “Don’t shoot.”

  “First tell us what you and Jon Daly were doing in the cemetery the other night,” Corky said. The words just burst out of her. She hadn’t really intended to ask that question till later.

  Sarah Beth acted surprised. “You were there?” she asked Corky. “In the cemetery?”

  “No. Just driving by,” Corky explained.

  Sarah Beth blushed. She took a deep breath. “I didn’t think anyone saw us.” She stared at Corky.

  She’s stalling, Corky thought. She’s thinking fast, trying to think of a good lie. “I saw you dance,” Corky said, staring back at Sarah Beth, challenging her with her eyes.

  Sarah Beth chuckled and shook her head. “It was all so silly.”

  “Silly?” Corky asked. She was determined not to let Sarah Beth off the hook.

  “I’ve known Jon for years,” Sarah Beth said, her cheeks still pink. “We were in school together. We even dated for a while, but I lost touch with him. When he called me a few weeks ago, I was really surprised.”

  “He called you?” Corky asked.

  Sarah Beth picked up the coffee cup and took a long sip. “Yeah. Out of the blue. He was really pumped, sounded a little crazy to me. But Jon was never exactly what you’d call calm.”

  “What did he want?” Debra asked, tucking her legs under her.

  “He wanted me to meet him. In the Fear Street cemetery,” Sarah Beth replied, reaching up and fluffing her still-damp hair. “Jon knows that I’m a Fear. And he knows about my interest in my ancestors—and my interest in spirits and the occult.”

  She finished her coffee and set the cup back down on the carpet. “So I met him at the cemetery,” she continued. “He was definitely acting weird. I mean, really weird. Even for Jon. As soon as I got there, he started asking me if I knew the truth: the truth about his sister, Jennifer. I really didn’t know what he was talking about.”

  Corky stared intently at Sarah Beth, listening, studying her eyes. I don’t think she’s telling us the truth, Corky thought. There’s something wrong with this story.

  “Then Jon started asking me if I believed in evil spirits. I told him I believed in all kinds of things—but that didn’t seem to satisfy him. He knew I studied the occult and the spirit world. He asked me if I knew how to summon spirits from the grave. At first I just laughed at him. I thought he was kidding me.”

  She shook her wet hair. “Are you two okay? Do you think it’s too warm in here? I could turn down the heat.”

  “No, we’re fine,” Debra replied quickly. “Please—go on.”

  “Well, I didn’t really want to continue. But Jon was so insistent. He was really out of his head. I told him I’d read about a dance you do on someone’s grave to summon the dead person’s spirit. He demanded that I show it to him. I felt ridiculous, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer. So I showed him a little bit of the dance. I mean, actually I made up most of it—I don’t really know it.” She turned to Corky. “I guess that’s when you drove by.”

  But you seemed to be really into it, Corky thought skeptically. You didn’t act like it was some kind of goof, Sarah Beth. You looked really serious to me.

  ??
?Then what happened?” Corky asked.

  “Nothing,” Sarah Beth replied with a shrug. “Nothing happened. No spirit appeared—big surprise, huh? I thought Jon would be disappointed, but he looked very pleased. Really happy, for some reason. Then we said good night and went our separate ways. I haven’t seen or heard from him since.”

  Something’s wrong here, Corky thought. There’s something wrong with this story.

  “What a strange guy,” Sarah Beth said thoughtfully. “He’s scary, I think. Really scary.”

  The room grew silent. A clock somewhere in the back started to chime. Corky glanced at her watch. Nine o’clock.

  “Sure I can’t get you some coffee?” Sarah Beth offered. “It’s all made.”

  “No, thanks,” the two girls said, again in unison.

  “Then I guess I’ll tell you about Sarah Fear,” Sarah Beth said, stifling a yawn. “That’s why you’ve come, right?”

  “Yes. We really need to know about her,” Corky said, studying Sarah Beth’s face.

  “I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed,” Sarah Beth told them. “I don’t know all that much. Most of it I got from old newspapers and what few family records I could find. One of Sarah’s cousins, Ben Fear, kept a journal. That was helpful up to a point. But believe me, there are a lot of gaps in the story. A lot of gaps.”

  She tucked her legs beneath her in the big chair, leaned on one of the overstuffed arms, and began to talk, moving her eyes from Corky to Debra, then staring down at the dark carpet as she spoke.

  “I guess I’ll begin with Sarah’s death. Or I should say, near-death. That would be in … uh … 1899, I guess. Up to that point, I think you could say that Sarah had managed to escape the curse of the Fears. Meaning she had had a fairly happy life.

  “In his journal, Ben Fear described her as a lovely flower of a young woman. That’s the way Ben wrote. He was pretty flowery himself. But I guess it can be said that Sarah was beautiful in every way. She was a lovely young woman, kind, generous, and loving.

  “I’m starting to sound like Ben Fear,” Sarah Beth muttered, rolling her eyes. “Oh, well, bear with me. According to family records, Sarah was happily married. For a brief time, anyway. She never had any children.